


Coming For To Carry Me Home

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Suilad Aran Thranduil [26]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: I really like the idea of Thranduil being a twin, also death, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:37:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ghosts linger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming For To Carry Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Galen means green. Taeglin means deep sound(alternatively it means Border Song, as far as the internet will tells me). I can't remember what Beliel means. Oops. I am like so fucking drunk right now it is not funny. MERRY CHRISTMAS! :D

He digs his mother out of the ruins and places her over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around her legs, her head resting against his back. In his free hand he holds his sword, blood stained and heavier now than the day his father gifted it to him. He leaves a trail of dwarven bodies behind him as he carries his mother from this place that he used to call home. He never looks back.

_There was nothing left of the Doriath I knew to put to rest. The ghosts linger._

He drags his brother along behind him, imagines he can hear his voice in his ear.

“You’d think, Tuil, that a prince would look good in anything, particularly a crown-prince, but I have to say, little brother, this mud just isn’t working for me.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Hey, watch the rocks! This is precious cargo you are hauling around.”

He knows his brother says nothing, but he imagines all the same. Besides, home is another few hours away, he could do with the company.

_Galen was heavy, but I would have carried him anywhere, and I did._

His sister has always been beautiful, she has always been precious. He has always feared the day he would have to let her go. He has had their entire life to prepare for this and he’s still not ready. Not for this.

He cradles her to his chest, she feels so tiny and fragile in his arms and he can’t understand why, for the life of _them,_ their father allowed her to become a warrior, why she was allowed to leave her room without an escort. He cradles her to his chest and he wishes he could share her last breath with her as they shared their first. He wishes that if he could not share the rest of his life with her, he could at least give some of it to her.

He’s not particularly sure who he is without her, he doesn’t have a choice now, but to find out.

_I saw Taeglin’s blood on my hands for three days afterwards. Sometimes I still see it._

The only safety he can find for his father is the shadows behind a pile of bodies. It will serve. It will have to. Safety for a dead body. He laughs. A vicious, hysterical, soul-wrenching laugh. He doesn’t know when he starts crying, all he knows is he can’t stop. Battle wages around him, but he doesn’t notice it at all as he cradles his dead father in his arms and huddles behind a pile of bodies. This was not the life he thought he’d have when he thought about his future all that time ago in Doriath. This was not the life.

_I held him far more successfully than I held myself together. He was cut open, his blood all over the place, yet I was the one who fell apart._

His wife was always selfless. Always willing to go without so that others would not have to. Always willing to sacrifice herself. Maybe he should have explained things to her better. Maybe he could have made her understand that leaving him behind was not something he would thank her for, that her death was more tragic to him than his own. He should have tried harder, should have pulled her into his arms and run with her to the healers. He should have saved her.

_Beliel said she did it for Legolas. But Legolas would have preferred his mother to be alive. Even so, I understand what she meant. I don’t want to._

He spends his life picking up what little pieces of his loved ones he can find, and he carries them home. Tries very hard to put them to rest, but they haunt him still, he thinks they always will. That’s okay, he thinks, he has carried them this far, a little further won’t hurt. 


End file.
